By Alyssa Forelsket
To: The Keeper

I sit inside Bar Poet, watching a candle burning to a stub, adding to the glacier of wax beneath it. A cocktail glass twirls between my nervous fingers. So many times I’ve escaped here to daydream of you and now the reality approaches. The urge to search for your silhouette claws at the inside of my skull. 

You may know how deep and desperate my craving is, but I have never been weak. That will not change today. My back is to the door in defiance of my own neediness. Longing for your cock and loving you always fills me with silent battles.

But my ears know no rest. Is that your footstep drawing close? The sound fades into the bustle of the room and I sink teeth into my knuckles, finding respite in the pain.  The void takes me willingly, filled with feeling too chaotic for cohesive thought. 

I slam back into the world with a start, a hand moving the hair away from my neck. It’s you. It better be you. 

“Are you happy to see me pet?”

“Deliriously so.” 

You slide in beside me. “Show me.”

My legs part and your hands move up my thigh and find the head of the fire, fingers dip into overflowing devotion.

“It’s nice to be missed,” you whisper.